White Nationalsm, despite its rational nature, has also long been sustained by a section of authors - such as William Dudley Pelley, Father Charles Couglin, Savitri Devi, and Julius Evola Julius Evola | Inner Traditions who've expressed more supernatural or esoteric interests. And any PLE book shop or Internet book business should be sure to include as many of their works as possible. Or for that matter, the books which investigate such things.

In 1972 my mother was managing a 16-storey high-rise building on the edge of San Francisco's Chinatown; the Mandarin Tower. And after my father's career as an aircraft builder and cabinet-maker, he assisted with his handyman skills, while I at 24 years of age held the janitorial contract for the building's floors as my first business.

Eventually, however, as I still had a strong inclination for political activism, I decided to accept the invitation of a still relatively unknown young politician in New Orleans by the name of David Duke. Duke had made an unusually strong impression on me earlier in Arlington, Virginia, where despite his youthful appearance he could discuss history and philosophy with an aplomb that revealed his natural gift for the world of ideas.

He also had no difficulty sorting out for any listener what had been "race sustaining" or not "race sustaining" about the South's former segregation system. I liked his daring honesty. Now he had asked me to relocate down there to assist his organization, the Nationalist Party. It was an easy decision to make at the time; for although New Orleans has a Black majority population its suburbs are generally White.

One evening when it was nearly time for me to go, I visited my parent's apartment high up in the building. From the living room there was an incredible panoramic view that embraced the roofs of Chinatown, the Coit Tower, North Beach, and at night the lights of the Bay Bridge spanning through Yerba Buena Island; with a wide horizon of sparking light further across the water coming from Oakland and Emeryville.

My mother, a typical Irish born farm girl from the old way of life and its beliefs, was quite supportive about me making this journey to America's deep South,

though she hadn't much understanding about my kind of politics. And on this beautifully clear night, before I would be going so far away again, she asked if she could read my fortune with her Tarot cards.

Her belief in such things defined a large part of her personality, and sometimes she even went by the mystic sounding name of "Ezat" when she provided numerology readings for a list of loyal clients, some of whom would travel all across the country to confer with her.

And so, as it would help reduce the slight discomfort and apprehension involved in parting, and would appease her, I agreed to let her provide a reading for me.

Oddly, though I had seen such things done many times, and in many ways, this particular reading seemed forever etched in my mind, like a short film that can be run at anytime at will.

Most of the reading was actually quite routine, but then she stopped and looked puzzled, even unsettled:

"I don't know what this actually means," she said, "but in the symbolism of the cards it says quite clearly that two kings are coming to take you away. It's an odd thing to find in the cards, and it's the first time I've ever seen anything like this, but it's there. Look, how odd, see for yourself."

"The two kings represent an unusual amount of authority, and they're definitely coming for you, but I honestly don't know if it's good or bad, just that it's going to happen." Then she looked up, and said "If you believe in such things."

It gave me a peculiar chill that crept down my back, though only for a moment. But I also thought of myself as not being very superstitious, a very rational type of person, and soon I put it all out of my mind.

A few months later, as anyone knows who's read the book 'My Awakening,' David Duke, myself, and others were arrested and thrown into the depths of New Orleans' notorious Parish Prison.

It was a hellish experience in which we were all nearly killed by truly dysfunctional thugs that had been taught for a lifetime by the Liberal media to blame White people for every set-back in their lives. Understandably, the encounter with them changed my life, though every one of the charges on a highly colorful and imaginative list was dropped after three days and we were freed. And I still have no kind of criminal record at the age of 70.

Prior to this I would not have believed that it's possible to be arrested and threatened with bodily harm - in a notorious jail that's routinely used for political intimidation - after merely speaking one's mind in America. Oddly, the situation was somewhat similar to a famous song as well.

I went on down to New Awlins and felt so full of fight,
Dey put me in de Calaboose and keep me dare all night.

Weel about and turn about and do jis so,
Eb'ry time I weel around I jump Jim Crow.

Verse 5 from the song 'Jump Jim Crow' by Firth & Hall

Prior to this I would not have believed that a large metropolitan police force, of otherwise normal looking Blacks and Whites, existed anywhere in America as unpredictable and dangerous as what I encountered in New Orleans. I believe it now.

There have been at least two Johnny Cash songs devoted to Parish Prison, and having personally witnessed and endured the nightmarish conditions there, I can tell you that the songs were written for good reason.

In fact, there are many people throughout history who have said - for good reason in my own view - that culturally New Orleans itself is as bizarre, mysterious, and dangerous as the Bermuda Triangle; whether you're referring to religion, serial murder, ufos, natural disasters, Britney Spears (;-)) and certainly, politics.

As we walked away from Parish Prison, down a side alley, I felt strangely light headed and light bodied. The terror had lifted so abruptly (read the 'The Belly of the Beast' chapter of Dr. Duke's My Political Awakening), that in the comforting shadow of the cool bricks, where further out was the sun and heat of New Orleans, I suddenly felt a powerful euphoric surge, an almost convincing sense I might float up into the sky and drift away like a balloon.

Today I sometimes still recall the night when those cards were spread out across the coffee table, something that's just as vivid as the trauma that soon followed, and how they foretold of two Kings coming to take me away. I also think about an epigraph from Gary Krist's book Empire of Sin: A Story of Sex, Jazz, Murder, and the Battle for Modern New Orleans. “It is no easy matter to go to heaven by way of New Orleans.”

I really enjoy stories like this. Do you definitively believe you've encountered both kings yet? Obviously your pro-White beliefs, politics, and activism represent one king, but do you think the legal system, jews (as in their opposition to us) or some other "force" to come represents the other king?

I really enjoy stories like this. Do you definitively believe you've encountered both kings yet? Obviously your pro-White beliefs, politics, and activism represent one king, but do you think the legal system, jews (as in their opposition to us) or some other "force" to come represents the other king?

Hi Elysium,

I've always looked upon this particular event as completed, and never really worried about encountering more Kings, but that's a good point, as David Duke certainly met up with a second King.

A few years after this I was touring a carnival in Maryland with Dr. William Pierce's former secretary, Earl, for whom the Turner Diaries was named.

A friend of Earl's by the name of Charles was also along, and when we encountered two Mormons at an LDS display in a tent, Charles guided us in because their history had always held a special fascination for him.

The Mormons were soon talking about Joseph Smith and the angel bringing the gold plates with Charles, but after noticing the usual skepticism one of them eventually said:

"Didn't you ever have at least one really strange occurance in your life, something that simply didn't fit the rules of science?"

And although Earl couldn't recall anything like that, perhaps because of his own firm atheism, both Charles and I agreed we had. And as Charles was a Catholic, he also added that there was quite a lot of that in his own religion.

I had an interesting and rather haunting situation happen when I was in boot camp.

As a recruit, I was marching/walking in a small "detail" - a single line, with about seven of us or so. We were going to get some more gear that we would regularly use or carry with us, as I recall. I was the last one, and it was one of those rare moments I wasn't under the direct eye of a drill instructor. Well, I felt a somewhat firm hand on my right shoulder, and I turned my head to look and there was no one there.

Shortly thereafter, probably within a few days I became sick. It started as just a cough and sore throat. I believe on two consecutive occasions I was sent back from the "sick call" with an "everything's fine." However, I did notice approximately like three red spots on my legs. One was on my calf, and the other ones were on my thighs and/or other calf.

Well, like that next morning after having been sent back from "sick call" and the drill instructors are yelling "get up, get out of the rack," I just stayed there and basically couldn't move. I was escorted to the medical area, where my pulse was taken and it was like 20/30, or 20/40. I remember one of the male medical personnel saying "oh you're really sick, aren't you?" From there I was supported in my walking by medical staff extending their arm for me to hold on to.

I was admitted to the hospital and my temperature was 101 degrees. The next day 102, next day 103 (and I think by then there were red spots all over my body except my face, (and neck I believe)). I was given an antibiotic from a doctor and it didn't work, the next day my temperature was 104, next day 105, next day 106, next day 107, and the next day 108. I remember a chaplain outside my door saying what sounded as "last rites." During the days of my temperature increase blood was continually taken, and I became so dehydrated, they could no longer take blood from my upper forearm, so they were taking it right above my wrist, which was very painful (and of course I was on an "iv" for food and water, as I was unable to eat). My face became so swollen, purple-black and bluish in coloration (it looked like I had been severly beaten), one eye completely swollen shut, and the capillaries in my eyes broke, so all the whites of my eyes were red. I became so weak I basically couldn't talk any anymore.

Well, when my temperature was 108, another doctor came in and gave me another antibiotic. He said I would never get this again and would have natural immunity for the rest of my life. Although I never found out what "that" was. All I really remember after that was waking up out of a deep sleep and knowing I had been healed but was still weak.

I had to go to a medical rehabilitation platoon to learn how to breathe again, using a device. I was able to guage how far my breathing was improving by how far a part of this device moved up when I inhaled. It was a miracle and further miraculous that I was well enough within three weeks or so to return to boot camp, and complete my training.

I had prayed throughout my ordeal and was a Christian before I went to bootcamp. I came to realize and believe and know it was the hand of God on my shoulder that day, and Him stating "My hand is upon you."

The rumor going around the hospital and bootcamp was that a bunch of recruits died from scarlett fever. I remembered the barracks being under quarantine and the "racks" (bed frames) being scrubbed. It only says "severe viral syndrome" in my medical records.

"Didn't you ever have at least one really strange occurance in your life, something that simply didn't fit the rules of science?"[/I]

(trimmed)

all the time (used to it ), but now that Im here, I feel better about it, like I'm where I should be- if these things happen to you, just acknowledge them, maybe even write them down, but pay attention to it, dont just blow it off. It does mean something!
How many nights I toss and turn because I am dreaming of those same things........

I had an interesting and rather haunting situation happen when I was in boot camp.

As a recruit, I was marching/walking in a small "detail" - a single line, with about seven of us or so. We were going to get some more gear that we would regularly use or carry with us, as I recall. I was the last one, and it was one of those rare moments I wasn't under the direct eye of a drill instructor. Well, I felt a somewhat firm hand on my right shoulder, and I turned my head to look and there was no one there.

Shortly thereafter, probably within a few days I became sick. It started as just a cough and sore throat. I believe on two consecutive occasions I was sent back from the "sick call" with an "everything's fine." However, I did notice approximately like three red spots on my legs. One was on my calf, and the other ones were on my thighs and/or other calf.

Well, like that next morning after having been sent back from "sick call" and the drill instructors are yelling "get up, get out of the rack," I just stayed there and basically couldn't move. I was escorted to the medical area, where my pulse was taken and it was like 20/30, or 20/40. I remember one of the male medical personnel saying "oh you're really sick, aren't you?" From there I was supported in my walking by medical staff extending their arm for me to hold on to.

I was admitted to the hospital and my temperature was 101 degrees. The next day 102, next day 103 (and I think by then there were red spots all over my body except my face, (and neck I believe)). I was given an antibiotic from a doctor and it didn't work, the next day my temperature was 104, next day 105, next day 106, next day 107, and the next day 108. I remember a chaplain outside my door saying what sounded as "last rites." During the days of my temperature increase blood was continually taken, and I became so dehydrated, they could no longer take blood from my upper forearm, so they were taking it right above my wrist, which was very painful (and of course I was on an "iv" for food and water, as I was unable to eat). My face became so swollen, purple-black and bluish in coloration (it looked like I had been severly beaten), one eye completely swollen shut, and the capillaries in my eyes broke, so all the whites of my eyes were red. I became so weak I basically couldn't talk any anymore.

Well, when my temperature was 108, another doctor came in and gave me another antibiotic. He said I would never get this again and would have natural immunity for the rest of my life. Although I never found out what "that" was. All I really remember after that was waking up out of a deep sleep and knowing I had been healed but was still weak.

I had to go to a medical rehabilitation platoon to learn how to breathe again, using a device. I was able to guage how far my breathing was improving by how far a part of this device moved up when I inhaled. It was a miracle and further miraculous that I was well enough within three weeks or so to return to boot camp, and complete my training.

I had prayed throughout my ordeal and was a Christian before I went to bootcamp. I came to realize and believe and know it was the hand of God on my shoulder that day, and Him stating "My hand is upon you."

The rumor going around the hospital and bootcamp was that a bunch of recruits died from scarlett fever. I remembered the barracks being under quarantine and the "racks" (bed frames) being scrubbed. It only says "severe viral syndrome" in my medical records.

I am very open to the existence of such things as ESP, Out-of-body experiences, "hauntings," synchronicity etc. I have been a fan and student of the late William Dudley Pelley for 12 years now and his work is some of the most fascinating writing I have ever stumbled across. Just now the first ever full-length biography of the man is out from Syracuse University Press and it is a very objective account, not loaded with leftist propaganda like some other establishment biographies of movement folks...

I am very open to the existence of such things as ESP, Out-of-body experiences, "hauntings," synchronicity etc. I have been a fan and student of the late William Dudley Pelley for 12 years now and his work is some of the most fascinating writing I have ever stumbled across. Just now the first ever full-length biography of the man is out from Syracuse University Press and it is a very objective account, not loaded with leftist propaganda like some other establishment biographies of movement folks...

That's very exciting news, thanks for letting us know. Yes, Pelley's story has needed a generous telling for quite some time. And I've long been amazed that, despite the enormous amount of press Pelley managed to generate in the 30s and early 40s, how the Jewish dominated media eventually went remarkably silent about him. Today few people are even aware that Charles Lindbergh testified for Pelley during a nationally known "treason trial" which targeted Pelley among many others patriots.

That's very exciting news, thanks for letting us know. Yes, Pelley's story has needed a generous telling for quite some time. And I've long been amazed that, despite the enormous amount of press Pelley managed to generate in the 30s and early 40s, how the Jewish dominated media eventually went remarkably silent about him. Today few people are even aware that Charles Lindbergh testified for Pelley during a nationally known "treason trial" which targeted Pelley among many others patriots.

OK folks, give us some practical experiences, excercises.
Do not consider ESP, OBE etc. as something from SF or horror. These things are real.
Every night you have an OBE. I guess that you do not learn this in school, but you should.